Not a Single Drop of Rain
by ShadowCinder333
Summary: "I'm not fond of the rain whenever it lands on me. I don't mind the wetness or the cold, nor do I really care about how bad my appearance may seem afterward. But the rain symbolizes sadness, and I'd prefer to be rather happy. But, besides that fact, I do enjoy the sound of it." One-shot about Glynda and Ozpin. Rated T for dark themes.


**A/N: Hello fellow readers! This is just a small one-shot I created for a contest on the RWBY reddit. The requirements were to include the characters Glynda and Ozpin and for the story to be about life lessons.**

**With that in mind, here you go!**

**Note: There are timeskips. So please pay attention to the dates written on each section**

* * *

_"And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye."_

_-The Little Prince_

**Not a Single Drop of Rain**

**Part I: Broken**

**8/1/10**

_This cemetery is so bland, _the woman thinks as she strolls through the garden of missing souls and broken gravestones. A soft win rustles the nearby oak tree, causing several acorns to drop onto the cracked ground. Above, the sky is a dark gray color with streaks of baby blue appearing every now and then. Her feet moving slowly, the woman glances at all the wilted flowers, some more dead than alive, and sighs.

She makes a mental note to bring more gifts the next time she visits.

Twigs snapping under her feet, the lady doesn't mind how eerily calm and serene the land of lifeless bodies seems to be. She's always preferred the peace and quiet that comes along with being alone, her life being more than hectic nowadays, and has come to the Vale Memorial Center more than once. Continuing her casual walk, she stares at the imprints her boots left during her last visit, a small event which perspired only a few days ago.

Her hands fidget every once in a while. The fragrance of the silver bells underneath her nose fills her head with burning memories, but she pushes them down, not wanting to remember the past until she reaches her destination.

Nearby, those taking the time to visit their loved one don't even glance as the woman passes by. She's gone, disappeared from the world and will not return until her job is complete.

As the woman draws closer to the end of her mission, she notices how boring the gravestone looks like from afar. It wasn't her choice on how the memorial would look, nor did she really care on how it would appear, but now she sees that she should have gave her two cents about the arrangements. The tombstone is a simple slab of stone, one that barely reaches her knees, and it is surrounded by a plethora of various flowers and other gifts bestowed to its owner.

Most of them are hers.

The woman brushes a loose strand out of silvery blond hair out of her face and gently bends down to inspect the monument. Ten years and still hasn't faded one bit, a fact that makes her smile. Fingers tracing the words that have been marked on the headstone, she presses her skin against the very name she misses hearing so much.

_Ozpin._

_{Not a Single Drop of Rain}_

**20 Years Ago**

**12/24/90**

The winter was fierce that year. Snow so cold it was hot seemed to cover the Vale streets; the sun barely came out if not at all. People often joked that Vale had become the Atlas of Remnant, with the tech-based county usually suffering the most in terms of the ice and cold. Cars were told to stay in their garages, people warned to stay hot and toasty, and family and friends reminded to celebrate the holidays with the ones they loved. The last piece of advice most did take to heart, and, despite the frigid atmosphere and negative zero temperature, the Valean residents spent the majority of Christmas with the people close to them.

Except for one, that was.

The Vale Military Hospital (called V.M.H) was a gleaming white building that housed past Hunters and Huntresses (or other military related people) who had been injured. Though Beacon had its own infirmary and medical ward, some wounds could not be treated there. Wounds that required more...urgent care.

'The Christmas Room' was a special treat the Vale Military Hospital gave its inhabitants. A way of preserving the spirit of the holidays, the staff said when asked about its purpose. Patients (as long as given clearance and, if needed, assisted by their helpers) were allowed to roam the large room full of Christmas décor and a table bursting with sweets (sugar-free, of course) and presents. There were no children, obviously, for the place was a Military Hospital, but there were several ex-soldiers chatting their heads off, having chose to ignore the woman in the corner.

While some preferred the steamy hot fireplace or the popcorn-covered Christmas tree,_ she _opted to be by herself, her violet shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders. Her dark emerald eyes were narrowed, always watching and waiting for someone to come up and try to make conversation, and her silvery-blond hair was nearly glowing in the dimly lit room. She didn't want to visit the Christmas room, but her doctor forced her to try to relax and enjoy her life. Hah, like that would work. The sounds around her starting to fade away, the woman leaned her head against the wall and tried to block out the annoying noises of reality.

And then...then fate just _had to_ intervene.

"Excuse me?" A calm voice said, and her eyes snapped open to find a man standing in front of her. His hair was an intimidating pitch-black, but his face showed nothing but concern and kindness. "Are you okay?"

The woman merely blinked before saying, "Go away."

The man's eyebrow went up, not out of shock or anger, but as if he was amused. He swiftly turned back around and headed off.

The woman sighed, feeling just the slightest bit guilty for her rude behavior, but she nestled into her shawl again.

"Excuse me?" The same voice said once more.

Shit.

"Listen, whoever you are," The woman shot up and scowled. "I don't need anyone to talk to, okay? I am perfectly fine and dandy, all right? So just leave me alone and-" She felt herself falter as she realized that the man was holding out a plate of chocolate chip cookies. "Huh?"

"I was about to say that I got these for you," The man explained, his voice a hushed whisper. "You seem...tired."

The woman scoffed. "I'm fine."

The man didn't argue this claim, only sat down, crossed his legs, and said, "I'm Ozpin."

The woman stared at him in confusion. Why wasn't he leaving?

"Cookies?" He held the freshly baked treats up in the air and waved them.

Her stomach growled. Damn it all.

"I...all right," She said in a defeated tone, and reluctantly sat down.

Ozpin handed her a cookie and watched her nibble at it with contempt. "You don't like chocolate?"

"I don't like cookies given to me by random strangers," she retorted, but took a larger bite. "You're new here, aren't you?"

Ozpin nodded. "Indeed I am. And I take it that you are rather familiar with this place?"

"That would be one way to put it," she said.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Glynda Goodwitch," Glynda answered, seeing no harm in letting a newbie know her title. "Queen of dust and ex-Huntress."

"Ex?"

"Well, I'm not exactly in that occupation anymore." Glynda's eyes flickered towards the ground, and she stopped eating.

"And how old are you, Miss Goodwitch?" Ozpin inquired.

"Twenty-five," she replied honestly.

"You seem much older," Ozpin said.

Gynda gave a wry smile. "Is that an insult?"

"It is merely an observation."

Glynda frowned. "So why are you here?"

"Same as you," Ozpin said. "I'm twenty-six and an ex-Hunter myself."

"I assume your team, like mine, was still together after graduation?"

"We were," Ozpin sighed. "Until a few months ago, that was."

"I'm sorry to here that," Glynda said, voice rather flat for an apology. "My team...we didn't really know what to do after our fourth year. James, my leader, he suggested we just hang out for a while until something new came up. You know, like fight Grimm and do missions."

"Just like the old times?" Ozpin chuckled.

"Just like the old times," Glynda repeated, though her voice was a little more happier.

"So, why are you still here?" Ozpin asked.

A dark look flashed across Glynda's face, quickly replacing any joy she had earlier. "I've been injured greatly."

Ozpin didn't push farther, his assumptions already confirmed by the way Glynda avoided the subject. Taking a deep breath, he stood up. "Well, Miss Goodwitch, I am afraid I have to depart."

"Thank you," she said. "For the cookies."

"It was my pleasure," Ozpin said, and opened the room's door. "I hope to see you again sometime. Maybe we can even talk about the past some more."

Glynda nodded in uncertainty.

_{Not a Single Drop of Rain}_

Later that night, when the wind was howling and the V.M.H was dead silent, Glynda realized that Ozpin walked with a cane.

_{Not a Single Drop of Rain}_

**6/02/89**

**1 Year Before**

It was etched in minds of everyone present, the day that she had injured and rushed as quickly as possible to the nearest hospital. After all, Beacon was no longer her home; she was not a Huntress-in-training anymore.

At first, the staff didn't know what to do. Well, not exactly, but sedatives, they realized, were not going to work forever. She wasn't screaming or yelling. Instead, she was frozen. Petrified from the recent events that would scar her forever.

Unlike what most people thought, Hunters and Huntresses were not invincible. Weapons, dust, skill. All things that can't even save the best of fighters when in the the worst of times. Grimm were evil, soulless. Monsters that didn't care that they had just impaled the woman's teammate or ran over her leader.

They didn't care that the woman herself was more dead than alive, the small of human flesh and broken skulls satisfying their desire for death.

The floors later had to be mopped heavily to get rid of the blood.

_{Not a Single Drop of Rain}_

**4/20/90**

She wasn't able to really see him for a while. Sometimes, when she woke up early enough, Glynda was able to catch a glimpse of his cane or inky hair in the hallways. Sometimes, when she glanced at her window, she could spy him taking a stroll around the hospital's perimeter. But her lack of time wasn't her fault, nor was the fact he was busy himself.

Glynda's schedule was a complex one. It was required she attend multiple classes for her daily sessions of relaxation and shrinks, and throughout the day she was always closely monitored, as her hospital was one of paranoia and distrust. No one talked to her (the other patients, that was) and that was the way she had always lived: shut up and with an almost impenetrable fortress around her soul.

A fortress she had created ever since the battle.

But March 20th was different. Glynda hadn't woken up in a spiteful mood. She hadn't had the nightmares that usually plagued her mind when asleep. No. In fact, she almost felt like everything was...was _fine. _

The hospital cafeteria was almost empty, much to her pleasure. After ordering a croissant (lightly buttered, no icing) and a cup of just brewed coffee, she sat down in her regular seat and began to feast.

"Tch, tch. I was wrong then: you prefer espresso."

She stopped, croissant barely past her lips. "Espresso is energetic. Perhaps that is why I like it better than most other coffee choices."

A soft laugh escaped Ozpin's mouth, and he walked past Glynda before sitting down in the chair in front of her.

"What kind of coffee suits you the best?" Glynda inquired, and began to secretly pull out her wallet.

"Cappuccino or latte," Ozpin answered, oblivious to her actions. "Why?"

"Be right back," she said cryptically, only to return moments later, a steaming hot cup of coffee in her hands.

Ozpin gave her a bemused expression, but took the drink without hesitation. "Thank you." He took a sip. "But why?"

"For the cookies," Glynda said.

"Yes, but those didn't cost me five lien," Ozpin said. "Why don't you go to the regular cafeteria?"

"This one's much more enjoyable, even if the food isn't free," Glynda replied. "And besides, it has a plethora of more...tasty options."

"True, true," Ozpin said.

The two sat in silence for a while. Not an awkward kind of silence, but a silence that let the duo contemplate their thoughts and finally wind down.

"So," Ozpin said after a long while. "do you mind going for a walk, Miss Goodwitch?"

She gave him a wary look. "For what purpose?"

"I was just being polite," Ozpin said.

She stared at him some more. "...all right, then. I suppose I can take some time off."

"It's a hospital, Miss Goodwitch. What could you possibly do here?"

Glynda bit her lip. "Shall we go?"

He payed no attention to her obvious change of mood, and held out his arm.

She took it without missing a beat.

"What have you been doing for the past few months?" Ozpin inquired as he and Glynda strolled around the hospital.

"The usual," Glynda said blandly.

"I never see you except during the mornings sometimes," Ozpin said. "I would have thought that a woman like you would get out more."

"I am not really one for 'getting out'," Glynda snorted. "It's unreasonable."

"How so?" Ozpin said.

"I have no friends, no family inside of Vale," her tone turned bitter. "And everyone here is not very fond of me."

"I am quite fond of you," Ozpin said, gaze never leaving Glynda's face.

Cheeks growing warm, she broke eye contact and looked away. "Thank you, I guess."

"How long have you stayed here?"

"Almost a year..." Glynda said. "And I should guess that you have been here since December?"

"A bit longer," Ozpin admitted. "But I just never had the chance to explore because of the critical state I was in before."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Glynda said.

"You are sorry to hear a lot of things," Ozpin noticed. "From my team's disbandment to my injury."

"Is it not normal for a human being to be sorry for a terrible happening?" Glynda asked, a bit appalled at his lack of emotion.

"I never said that," Ozpin said automatically. "It was only an observation."

"You observe a lot of things, Ozpin," Glynda said, only realizing then that she had spoken his name for the very first time. It felt alien on her tongue, but rather smooth as well.

"That I do, Miss Goodwitch."

_{Not a Single Drop of Rain}_

**5/03/90**

Glynda tossed and turned in her bed, but her mind was too far away to notice her erratic motions. The sheets now on the ground, useless, only served to make her life more miserable as the cold air of vents caressed her shivering body.

She didn't think sleep was necessary. In fact, she usually hated to sleep unless it was absolutely necessary. Sleep, in her opinion, was something that brought a cruel, mercurial thing: nightmares.

June 6th, 1989, more specifically. Flashes of crimson spewing everywhere. Memories of Grimm roars and claws shattering her dreams of 'happily-ever-after' and all that other crap she had once believed to be possible.

She was supposed to have died that day. But she didn't, and the aftermath would leave her a living, breathing corpse.

_{Not a Single Drop of Rain}_

**5/04/90**

"Are you all right, Miss Goodwitch?" Ozpin asked her the next morning. The two were seated in their usual spots, the only difference being she hadn't eaten anything at all. Her silvery-blond hair was matted and tangled, as if she hadn't even bothered to brush it, and the bags under her eyes gave off a feeling of despair.

Glynda didn't look up as she answered, "I'm perfectly fine, Oz."

Ozpin frowned. "Rough night?"

She hesitated a moment before giving the tiniest nod.

Ozpin took a sip of his latte, now with a bit of fluffy cream.

"Hmm..." he mused, then grabbed his cane. "Well, Miss Goodwitch, allow me to brighten your spirits."

Glynda narrowed her eyes. "And how might you do that?"

Without a warning, Ozpin snatched her wrist and started to run across the cafeteria, Glynda in tow.

"Ozpin!" she exclaimed.

"Yes?" Ozpin said lightly.

"Let go of me right now or I swear I'll-" she ceased talking as she saw where Ozpin had taken her. "Um..."

"Welcome, Glynda, to my humble dwelling," Ozpin bowed, and gestured to the large wooden door which led to his room.

"Oz, how is this going to 'brighten my day'?" Glynda inquired.

To answer her question, Ozpin opened the door and went in. The sound of feet scurrying and boxes falling emitted, but Glynda remained planted in the hallway.

Finally, after what seemed like a forever, Ozpin emerged with an indigo book and some papers.

"This," he waved the objects around like a madman, "is how we shall escape."

Glynda put her hand to her head and sighed.

"Ozpin..."

"It'll cast a shroud around us so that we can get out of this damned place and live."

She perked up. Now_ that _sounded far more interesting.

He grinned, seeing her excitement. "You in?"

Glynda held out her arm and they linked together. "Yes."

_{Not a Single Drop of Rain}_

The downtown area of Vale hardly noticed the two adults as they walked down the street. Both had taken it upon themselves to wear the proper attire. Glynda with a plain white collared shirt and lavender shawl seemed quite archaic amidst the modernized city, and Ozpin with his black spectacles and cane seemed too old, but they enjoyed the afternoon nevertheless.

_{Not a Single Drop of Rain}_

**6/1/90**

"You seem better in spirits, Glynda," her psychologist said, clipboard in hand and a pen in her graying hair. "Why is that? Are your nightmares finally dialing down?"

Glynda glared at the woman in front of her. Mrs. Peterson always did annoy the hell out of her. Like all hospital patients, Glynda was required to go to consoling, a rule which never failed to drive her insane.

"My nightmares have not 'dialed down'," Glynda said coolly.

"Why the sudden change of behavior, then?"

Glynda didn't answer.

"How do you feel about being here for almost a year?" Peterson asked.

"It's not a very pleasant fact," Glynda said icily.

"What can you tell me about your dreams. Have they changed at all?"

"They get more bloodier," Glynda replied, a slight shiver crawled down her spine as she remembered seeing the bodies in a more vivid light than ever before.

Peterson wrote down some chicken scratch. "Anything else you haven't told me?"

"No, ma'am," Glynda said flatly. "May I go?"

Mrs. Peterson frowned a little. "I suppose so."

_{Not a Single Drop of Rain}_

**6/30/90**

The two lay on the roof, their faces towards the dying sun and hands just inches apart. Glynda let out a long sigh, her thoughts drifting somewhere else.

"Had another dream?" Ozpin asked softly.

Glynda nodded.

"Same one?"

"It's always the same one," she reminds.

"I know this is a bit nosy, but why can't you leave?"

Glynda felt her heart stop, and considered lying to him, but realized Ozpin could see through her as if her mind was made of glass.

"I'm deemed 'crazy' and 'not ready for normal life'," she replied somberly.

"Ah..."

"It's because I'm not likable. It's because I toss my pillows and sheets off of my bed and moan in my sleep," Glynda sat up and wrapped her arms around herself. "It's because I can't shake off this feeling that I'm always being watched or followed."

"When do you think you'll be released?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe in another year or so. But it's not just my sanity; it's the fact I don't have any relatives willing to take me. I'm hoping to find a job once I'm out of here."

"And that will be the first thing you do?"

She gave him an odd look. "Of course." Emerald eyes narrowed. "Why? What's the first thing _you'll _do?"

Ozpin didn't respond for a second, then took off his forest green jacket and put it around Glynda.

She stared at him, flummoxed. "What was that for?"

"You seem cold," was his simple reply.

They spent the rest of the day reading the clouds.

_{Not a Single Drop of Rain}_

**7/18/90**

"Why are you here?"

Ozpin glanced up at Glynda, and took his attention off the book he was reading.

Glynda immediately took back her books. "I-I mean, why are you here? In this hospital? You seem perfectly sane, perfectly healthy..." she mentally slapped herself. "I was just wondering."

Ozpin shut his book closed and placed it on the table. "I'm here because I was injured a long time ago. My team and I were helping an exposed village. Teaching them about defenses and skills and whatnot."

Glynda stayed quiet.

"One day, the Grimm decided to attack. We didn't know why, only that an entire group of innocent lives were at stake. So, we fought. Just like any other team of Huntmen, we fought...and we lost." Ozpin's grip on his cane tightened. "My teammates, all of them, were severely injured."

"And you?" Glynda asked.

"I am still suffering my own wounds," Ozpin said. "Inside and out. That's why I attend physical therapy every few days."

"I suspected that was why," Glynda said. "Are your teammates-"

"Dead? No. Not all of them, thank Remnant," Ozpin said. "Two were killed, but one survived, if not barely, and he is currently housed in the Mistral Hospital, as that's where his family is located."

"And your family?"

"The ones that care are dead," Ozpin said, voice somehow retaining its flatness, but Glynda could sense the venom dripping out of his words.

"I'm sorry," Glynda said before placing her hand on his, and it was then when she realized how rough his skin felt.

Ozpin merely sighed.

_{Not a Single Drop of Rain}_

**8/01/90**

The rain fell down hard that day. The sounds of thunder roaring and lightening cracking echoed throughout Vale as Glynda and Ozpin stared from inside a library.

"I hate the rain," Glynda said.

"And why is that?" Ozpin asked curiously.

"It gets you soaked, wet, and damp long after it's fallen," Glynda scowled.

"I actually like the rain," Ozpin said.

"Of course you do."

"Just not when it touches me," Ozpin said. "Rain is like tears. It falls whenever Remnant is so dry and desolate it's sad."

Glynda snorted. "And where did you hear that?"

"I didn't. Life just gives you the answers itself."

She didn't respond.

"Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, the rain," Ozpin took a sip of his coffee. "I'm not fond of the rain whenever it lands on me. I don't mind the wetness or the cold, nor do I really care about how bad my appearance may seem afterward. But the rain symbolizes sadness, and I'd prefer to be rather happy. But, besides that fact, I do enjoy the sound of it."

"You are a strange man, Oz," Glynda said quietly.

"Indeed I am."

"How do you act the way you do?" The words spilled out of her mouth faster than thought possible.

"Pardon me?"

Glynda fumbled for the right sentence. "I mean, how are you so...so calm?"

Ozpin smiled. A bright, wide smile that made Glynda a bit scared. "That, Miss Goodwitch, is because I know I'm all right."

She frowned. "All right? What in the blazes does that even mean?"

"It means what it means," Ozpin gazed out the library window. "Glynda, we are born on this world for what purpose?"

She took a while to answer. "To change it?"

"That could be one reason why," Ozpin said. "But I believe that the reason is much more complicated than that. We are merely remnants of a huge universe. Precariously hanging in the balance of right and wrong, good and evil. I am calm because that's all I can be."

"It just seems so difficult," Glynda rested her head against his shoulder and felt the soothing warmth of his body. "Living a life so passive and peaceful when there's a haunting past and a horrifying future."

"It all depends on the point of view, I suppose," Ozpin added. "The past may affect us now, but the future is still, well, in the future. Our past can affect what is to come, but that doesn't mean we stop doing what we're doing now and give up. You didn't the day you were injured."

Glynda turned rigid. She didn't even remember screaming the day her whole team died, the day her world turned black. All she remembered was death and fear.

"I didn't give up when my life was change forever," Ozpin said. "Glynda, we'll always carry the scars of the past, but that doesn't mean those scars will spread any further than where they already are."

"I'm not sure I understand," Glynda furrowed her brow.

"I know," Ozpin spoke, voice now a whisper. "And as much as I would love to contemplate life, we must be going."

"It's still raining, though."

"You do possess the semblance of telekinesis, don't you?"

Glynda's eyes widened. "I'm such an idiot."

"Don't degrade yourself, Miss Goodwitch," Ozpin pushed open the door and gave her a stern look. "Ever."

_{Not a Single Drop of Rain}_

Although many people that day complained of ruined clothes or dampened documents, two souls stayed perfectly dry.

**Part II: Healing**

_{Not a Single Drop of Rain}_

**8/13/90**

Glynda felt a jolt of sympathy emit in her heart as she watched Ozpin let out a grunt of pain. Physical therapy was never fun, only painful, and this was the third time she had accompanied her friend to the mandatory session. Watching Ozpin lift his leg into the air, however, was quite amusing, and she stifled a laugh as his face contorted into a rather uncomfortable look.

"I can hear you laughing over there, Miss Goodwitch," Ozpin said after the nurse put down his leg.

Glynda put her hand to her lips and smiled. "Whatever do you mean, Oz?"

Ozpin opened his mouth, but it quickly closed back as the therapist instructed him to preform a complex move. Bending his knee downward, Ozpin suddenly tumbled forwards.

"Oz!" Glynda rushed over, but the therapist had already grabbed Ozpin's body and was hoisting him into a chair. "Are you all right?"

Ozpin gave a wry grin despite the obvious pain he was feeling.

"Don't give me that look," Glynda scowled. "You almost hit the floor."

"Bending had always been my weak spot," Ozpin mused.

"Why don't we take a break?" the therapist suggested, and handed Ozpin a bottle of water before writing some words down on her clipboard. "I'll be back in five."

"Thank you, doc," Ozpin said as she left. He screwed open the bottle's cap and drank heavily.

"I don't understand. Your leg should be getting better," Glynda frowned.

"You worry too much," Ozpin chuckled.

"We walk all the time," Glynda lowered her voice. "The exercise and therapy should be helping you by now."

"And it has," Ozpin assured, and placed his hand on her shoulder. "Relax, Glynda."

She didn't respond, only gave a small 'hmph' and waited in silence until the therapist came back.

_{Not a Single Drop of Rain}_

**8/27/90**

"I still can't believe you're making me do this," Glynda grumbled as she and Ozpin turned the corner. The two were at Beacon Academy, their old home, and the very sight of the familiar school almost made her sick. Glynda could feel the hope and optimism radiating off of the first, second, third, and even fourth year students as she was pulled along. No one really paid attention to the two ex-hunters, nor did anyone notice woman's inner pain, and her face almost failed to betray the anguish she was experiencing.

Ozpin, however, did notice his..._friend'_s behavior. He stopped and sighed. "Glynda, if you really don't want to do this, I won't make you."

Glynda blinked a few times before looking down. Ozpin meant well, he truly did, but at times she wondered what went on in his cryptic mind. The devious black-haired devil had agreed to do a small speech for an assembly of first-years as well as give some tips and pointers. But how could she herself talk about being a Huntress when her memories brought nothing but misery and pain?

"I just..." Glynda felt a surge of warmth and comfort envelop her body, and she gazed down to see Ozpin's hand wrapped around hers.

"You don't even have to talk," he said.

"Then why am I here?"

"Because I know that you're an ex-Huntress, and that means you still have some knowledge about the profession that I lack. We come from different paths of destiny, Glynda, so we know different things."

Glynda considered Ozpin's words before taking her hand away and nodding her head. "Let's go."

He smiled.

_{Not a Single Drop of Rain}_

**8/27/90**

The classroom was abuzz with the happy chatter of first years. Every step was agonizing. Every move Glynda made turned her legs to jelly and inside to mush. She couldn't bear glancing at the students' faces. Instead, she opted to just lean against the classroom's back wall, her gaze focused on Ozpin and Ozpin alone.

"As most of you know by now, I am Ozpin," Ozpin introduced as he stood at the front of the class. "and it is a pleasure to be here today. I was once a Huntsman myself, which is the reason why I came."

One student raised his hand politely.

"Yes?" Ozpin asked.

"You said you were _once _a Huntsman," the student observed. "But you seem a lot younger than my parents or other Huntsman I've seen before. So why aren't you in the profession anymore?"

Ozpin let the corners of his mouth tip upwards just the slightest bit, but he retained his stolid attitude before addressing the boy's question, just not in a very straightforward way. "Excuse me for being blunt, but how many of you have deceased parents or siblings?"

The first years erupted in an almost quiet murmur, their voices carrying throughout the room with ease. But at last, one small, timid looking girl raised her hand.

"I lost my mother," she said, obviously struggling to be heard. Seeing her courage in speaking out, a number of other students began to raise their hands as well.

"Hmm..." Ozpin said. "I see that quite a few of you have lost family members. But now, let me be more specific. How many of you have lost parts of your family because of _them._"

There was no need for him to specify who _them _was. The darkness. The monsters. The beasts with no souls and no hearts.

Grimm.

Glynda felt her heart skip a beat, and her fingernails dug into her palms.

The large number of raised hands decreased by only three, leaving almost twenty hands still raised, still held high for those around to feel the saddening auras that surrounded them.

"Now, how many of you became a Huntsmen because of your loss?" Ozpin inquired.

Twenty-hands were still raised.

After a few brief seconds of silence, Ozpin said, "Thank you very much. You may now put down your hands."

The students let their arms rest before returning to Ozpin's presentation, their minds now filled with rapt attention.

"As you see, we all have different reasons for becoming a Hunter or Huntress. Some of us have lost loved ones, whether because of the Grimm or not. Some of us are pure of heart and want to change the world for the better. For me...it was neither of these things."

Glynda stared in confusion. Sure, Ozpin had never given his reason for enlisting in such a deadly job, but she had suspected-with his caring nature and all-that he became a Hunter because of his wanting to help the world.

The crowd of students began to talk amongst themselves, only to be shushed by their professor.

"You are probably wondering why I am up here. Why I have taken the time to ask you seemingly meaningless questions that will most likely be forgotten when you all head to lunch," Ozpin let out a dry, hollow laugh that made Glynda want to squeeze his hand and whisper words of encouragement. "But I am not here to fill your mind with superficial thoughts. I am merely here to give you a glimpse of what is to come. Most of you are seventeen or eighteen, or maybe even younger than that. And, having once been in your position myself, I understand your hatred for this phrase: you're just a child."

Several of the students shifted uncomfortably, past memories resurfacing or patronizing teachers and 'you're too young' and 'you're too little'.

"But it's true," Ozpin continued. "You all are just kids. Children. Some maybe more mature than others. Some more arrogant or prideful than they want to admit. But that all doesn't matter. In the end, you're all just souls trying to find your place in the world."

He paused for a second, fingers rubbing the cane. "I am became a Hunter not because my family died. In fact, my unit was a rather happy one. Minus a few irking cousins and such." A small grin spread across his face. "It was not revenge that prompted me to enroll, nor was it sickness, poverty, death, destruction, or hate. My reason...was love."

Glynda felt the wind get knocked out of her by an invisible force. By...love?

"I enrolled at Beacon Academy nearly ten years ago because I was madly in love," Ozpin said. "And although I admit that was foolish, it was also my decision and my decision alone. The woman was my best friend, my world, and my life. And when she chose to attend Beacon I chose to do that as well. As fate would have it, we were put on a team together. Over the next three years, I found myself growing closer and closer to her. We talked, fought, and trained side by side. Our moves became as one. Our hopes became juxtaposed, dreams entangled. We found ourselves becoming one whole being."

The students listened on, their eyes showing off their anticipation for Ozpin's happy ending.

"But..."

They frowned.

"We were not destined to be together. After graduation, my team decided to stick together. A way of defeating the Grimm more efficiently, my leader claimed, thought I know it was only because he would miss us dearly. We all agreed to remain as a team, and for the next four years, we fought a plethora of battles."

Ozpin closed his eyes. "One of them changed my life forever. Two of my teammates died. I won't go into details, as to spare you the agony of nightmares tonight, but I will say that the woman I loved, that I treasured, is no more."

A small sob escaped one of the first year's throats and was followed by a few more echoing from the students' inner emotions. Glynda felt her whole body go numb as she took in Ozpin's words.

"This talk is not meant to sway your choice of becoming a hero," Ozpin said, ignoring the cries of the students. "Instead, it is merely a warning about what may come, not what will come. As a Hunter and Huntress, your duty to the world is invaluable, and in some cases, forgotten. Not every person that has graduated from this academy has had their name go down in history. But I want you to listen closely. I have made many mistakes in my life, not just with battles or fights, but with personal friends and family. I've spoken rashly, nearly caused relationships to break, and throughout my short time on Remnant, was ultimately broken. You are the heroes of the world. You fight for what you have at the moment. Be it love or loss. Friends or family. Spend your time wisely, or else you'll regret it later. I have not regretted my actions too much, for I still have a lot to learn, but it's best to give others some tips before they themselves are tossed into the brutal reality of life, don't you think?"

No one replied. No one moved. A dead silence filled the air, making it hard to breathe correctly. Glynda felt tears prickle in the back of her eyes before quickly shoving them back into their ducks.

And then...

_Clap. Clap. Clap. _All heads swerved to see a lone student rising up, his hands creating the wonderful sound of appreciation. Soon, the other students followed his action, and the whole audience came alive.

Glynda joined their applause, her eyes locked directly on his.

Ozpin stared at the crowd, his face expressionless, but she could make out the faintest trace of happiness.

_{Not a Single Drop of Rain}_

**Over the Next Few Weeks**

They healed together. Not fast, but excruciatingly slow. It was the little things that helped them mend. A paid cup of coffee in the morning. A surprise trip to the library. Fresh picked roses from the hospital's garden.

The scars, however, were still there. At night, where the shadows danced on her walls like Grimm. At witching hour, when her head was coated in sweat and worry and _fear, _she would see the bodies. Haunting, glassy eyes with rotting breath and slimy skin.

But then, in early dawns, when the bluejays began their songs and the clouds were like cotton-candy, Glynda started to smile.

_{Not a Single Drop of Rain}_

**9/27/90**

"Happy Birthday, Miss Goodwitch."

Glynda looked up from her latte in shock. Ozpin had a rather unsettling (yet amusing) grin on his face, and was holding a medium sized violet box.

"For you," he said.

"Oh, Ozpin..." Glynda said. Truth be told, she had almost forgotten her own birth date, but didn't expect for Ozpin to go out of his way and get her a gift. "You didn't have to."

"What kind of friend would I be if I didn't?" Ozpin said, and shook the present. "Please take this; my arm is growing tired."

Glynda gave off a soft laugh before taking the box and unwrapping it slowly. Opening the container up, Glynda gasped as she brought out a beautifully crafted cape.

It shimmered with every turn, reflecting the sun's rays and shining them back into the open air. Deep indigo cloth made up most of the clothing piece, and grew dark, almost black, near the wavy tips.

"Do you like it?" Ozpin asked.

"I love it," Glynda whispered. Hesitating for a split second, she then threw her arms around Ozpin's neck and buried her head into his shoulder.

Ozpin flinched at the sudden hug not because he disliked the gesture, but because he found that sort of affection odd coming from Glynda.

"That's not all I have to give, though," Ozpin said when Glynda finished her hug. "I have some news."

"Is it good?"

"I wouldn't be telling you this if it wasn't good," Ozpin said.

"Fair point. Carry on."

"We're getting released."

Glynda's eyes widened, and the cape slipped out from her fingers and onto the tile floor below. "You're joking."

Ozpin shook his head vigorously. "I swear I'm not. Seeing as we've been here for so long, I took the liberty of sneaking into the files and finding the two of us. It turns out we've 'improved' according to the observation, and because my therapy has been exceedingly well, we'll be allowed to leave very soon."

"When?" Glynda said quietly.

"In maybe a month or so."

"That's...that's amazing! We'll finally be able to escape this place. Live our lives and actually have the chance to..." she trailed off.

"What was that last part?" Ozpin inquired.

Glynda hesitated before answering. "The chance to be actually be together."

"...well, why not?"

_{Not a Single Drop of Rain}_

**10/****30/90**

"Thank you very much," Glynda said politely, and took the small stack of papers from the lobby lady. The day was bright and sunny, which matched the mood of a certain ex-Huntress. Glancing around at the place she would soon be leaving, Glynda felt no remorse at what she had experienced during her stay.

That is, except for one individual.

"Excuse me, Miss Goodwitch?" A voice said from behind, and Glynda felt herself get spun around as Ozpin twirled her like a princess.

"Yes, Oz?" she said, a twinkle of mirth in her features.

"I believe we must hurry, or else I'll be tardy to my appointment."

Glynda rolled her eyes. "It's at three, Oz. I'm sure we'll get there on time."

After receiving a proper date of their release, Ozpin had immediately gone to a local bookstore and asked if they were hiring. The owner, a kind man named Tukson, had agreed to give Ozpin a chance once the latter was free. At first, the shopkeeper was hesitant to hire a man once in the hospital for so long, but Ozpin's calm demeanor and caring aura eased Tukson's worries.

Glynda had also scheduled a job interview, but that was to be done at a later time than Oz's. She was hopefully going to become an assistant in dust managing at a downtown dust shop, right by she and Ozpin's new apartment.

"It's so...strange," Glynda said as she walked towards the hospital's exit doors. "how we're actually leaving."

"I know," Ozpin said. "Almost as if we're leaving a piece of our past behind."

The two went past the sliding glass doors and stood still, a wave of uncertainty, yet hope, flooding through their minds.

"Glynda," Ozpin said abruptly.

"Yes?"

"Remember that day on the roof, when you asked me what would be the first thing I'd do?"

"Why on earth would you bring that-?"

Ozpin leaned in quickly, and his lips pressed onto Glynda's before she could finish her question. For a few seconds they remained silent, and she felt everything around her disappear into oblivion.

He tasted broken dreams and a shattered, yet nearly repaired soul.

She tasted his hope and ideas, his memories of loss and love.

And at last, Ozpin broke contact. The two stood staring, but Ozpin spoke before she could.

"That, Glynda, is what I promised myself I would do."

She waited a short moment before grabbing his shirt and kissing him again.

_{Not a Single Drop of Rain}_

**8/1/10****  
**

**Present Day**

Glynda feels the first raindrop splatter onto her hand. Sighing, she readjusts her glasses before setting down the silver-bells and standing up. She is alone in the cemetery, having stayed long after the other visitors have arrived, and is reluctant to leave the grave.

_I wish it didn't rain today, _she thought sadly.

Above her head, the ominous sound of thunder booms across Vale, warning Glynda that her time is running out. But she knows that she must do one last thing before heading off.

She reaches into her sepia satchel and brings out a worn notebook. A book faded, torn, and inscribed with spells she has acquired over her relatively long life. Most are some Ozpin had taught her when he was alive, back when they were together.

After flipping a few dozen pages, she finds what she is searching for: an ink-stained page full of seemingly meaningless scribbles and lines. The title reads 'Don't Let the Cries Touch Me.'

She smiles, for Ozpin was the one that named the spell. Fingers tracing the runes, she steps a good yard away from the gravestone and begins to cast the chant. It's a simple spell, one of the very first that she learned at her time at Beacon, and one that connects with her telekinesis. Within seconds, a thin, transparent dome has encircled the large pile of flowers and the gravestone itself.

Glynda gives a triumphant nod, a feeling of nostalgia coursing through her veins. She expects for the spell to last as long as it needs to, and secretly hopes that no one will really notice its presence. After waiting a minute to make sure the dome will still, Glynda slowly turns away to head out of the cemetery, her cape flowing behind her like petals in the wind.

_{Not a Single Drop of Rain}_

The rainfall is heavy, almost blinding, and major traffic complaints and accidents are reported. Those unfortunate to be outside are dripping wet once returned to their destination, and all of Vale's networks start to falter.

However, in a lonesome cemetery, far away from a certain lover's apartment, a small circle of light stands amidst the gray. Those who come by in the following days are shocked. The petals are in pristine condition, the tombstone is dry, and the soil around it is soft and not at all wet. They wonder to themselves how not a single drop of rain touched the tiny area, how such an oddity occurred.

But they soon decide afterward that some mysterious are best to be kept a secret.

* * *

A/N: Thank you for reading! For those wondering why I didn't tell how Ozpin died or when he died, I wanted it to be left ambitious, unknown, and for you guys to decide or think of a way yourselves. If you enjoyed this story, please vote for it on the RWBY reddit, or just leave a fave if you can, and I wish you a happy day!

-**ShadowCinder333**


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